The Evils of Alcohol
by ntrophi
Summary: More random TSW silliness. Major Elliot has to find his notebook, and the only thing standing between him and it is a drunk General Hein. Will the Major get through with his sanity still intact? Probably not!


Author note: This is sort of a sequel to an earlier fic – "The Evils of Chocolate" which I wrote some time back. Poor Major Elliot is not having a good time, is he? I actually have more of these "Evils of. . ." planned, but for now, you can all satisfy yourselves (o.O;;) with this.

Don't own Elliot, Hein or the Phantoms. I just ritualistically torture them. *gentle grin*

Enjoy! Alcohol-injected cookies to those who review, cookie-injected alcohols to those who don't.

'God, I hate this place at night. . .'

Major Elliot shuddered quietly and continued to hurry along the empty corridor as fast as his little legs would take him. He was hurrying along this corridor in the dead of night because, typically in his rush to leave the office this afternoon, he had forgotten a very important little pad of paper on which. . . Well, let's just say that if anyone found it, then Elliot would be in a _lot of trouble. You couldn't really blame him for trying to escape early. After all, he had been subjected to an entire day in General Hein's presence without a moments break. Given the Generals current state of mind, such a task was not easy. Elliot was amazed that he had managed to survive the entire day without killing either himself or Hein. Though the thought had been more than tempting more than once. There were so many different ways that you could get rid of an irritating General as well, Elliot had discovered. And not all of them involved pointy objects or things that went "bang". __I could just leave him to his own devices for an hour and see if he commits suicide first, Elliot thought as he sneakily peered around another dark corner. It was true. The reason why Elliot had to spend all his time with the General was because Hein couldn't be trusted to be left in his office on his own for any length of time. If he wasn't whining about the Phantoms, then he was whining about the lack of chocolate. After Hein had recovered from the spiked chocolate attack from a squad of soldiers (which Elliot now referred to as the "incident") the Council had decreed that the General wasn't allowed chocolate again. Ever. Being the ever so brave and mature person he was, Hein had not taken it at all well. The first few days of his cold turkey period had been pure hell for both of them. Elliot had never thought that Hein could be quite so troublesome. He had been threatened with dismissal, a court marshal and even a "spanking with a wet fish" in one of Hein's less lucid moments. All because he refused to provide the General with the chocolaty goodness he craved. And crave he did. Elliot had seen cases of soldiers being addicted to various things (though chocolate was not what he would call an addictive narcotic) and none of them had taken deprivation of their poison of choice quite as badly as Hein did. Only a week ago (the "incident" had been almost a month and a half ago now) Elliot had walked into Hein's office to find the General trying to eat the arm of his chair. His reason?_

'It looked like ch-ch-chocolate,' Hein had stuttered tearfully. Elliot rolled his eyes at the mere thought. _I have to take orders from a 37 year old child, he thought irritably. __They don't pay me nearly enough. . . He was almost there now; only two more corners and he would be there. He hoped he had left his notepad in one of the drawers of his desk, and not on top of the desk. He could remember he had been scribbling furiously in it for the last few minutes of his shift. Guess who had been incurring his wrath. I'll give you three guesses, but you'll only need one. Elliot could see it now – Hein staggering out of his office in a fit of chocolate deprived anger, gray eyes flitting down to glare at Elliot's desk. His eyes would rest on a seemingly innocent notebook with explosions and daggers doodled on the front cover. One shaking hand would reach for it, rip open the front cover, and then. . . Goodbye Elliot's military career. Goodbye Elliot's life. Elliot shuddered. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find that notebook, and he had to find it before someone else did!_

He finally reached the small alcove outside Hein's office where his own desk was. He snuck up to the desk, after looking around in a suitably shifty manner of course, and gently pulled open the drawer where he last remembered putting his notebook.

A ball of fear, terror and utter annoyance exploded in his throat as he searched – in vain – for the book. It wasn't there. _How in Hell can it not be there?! Elliot though, frantically searching through the drawer again. There were a few candy wrappers, a newspaper that appeared to be from seven years ago, and a report concerning Zeus that he was sure Hein should have signed by now, but no notebook. No little book of secrets. No little book to which he could pour out his very soul. Elliot swallowed. Whoever had stolen (or found) his book was going to be in very deep trouble indeed. If they didn't kill him first. Which was more than likely if a certain General got his hands on it._

'Oh, crap,' Elliot murmured, throwing open another drawer and rummaging desperately through it. No, the book wasn't in there either, but he did find something that explained why the speed of light couldn't be surpassed unless you used a doughnut. The third drawer in his desk didn't contain his book either, just the Mills and Boon book he had managed to steal from somewhere and a packet of pretzels that had been left there so long they were threatening to evolve into a sentient lifeform. But no notebook! Elliot could feel his mind taking another great step towards insanity. That book had been very important to him. It was where he wrote down all his feelings, all his hates and loves. It was where most of his homicidal rants concerning Hein were stored. It was also home to that list of people he would most like to. . .

Elliot paled. He had to get that book back. But how? How was he even going to find it? It was 2am on a Thursday, and anyone could have come past here and taken his precious notebook. He could only hope that it had been the janitor or someone like that. Someone who could easily be threatened into giving it back.

'Major?' Elliot felt his jaw drop slightly. Unless his ears deceived him (and he _knew they didn't) that was Hein's voice. __What is he doing here?! he thought desperately, pulling himself to his feet. Well, kneeling on the floor, ripping his desk to shreds was not the best position to be caught in. Admittedly, it wasn't the worst either, but he wasn't going to venture down __that memory-ridden path again._

'Y-Yes, sir?' he stuttered, standing up and slowly turning around. He couldn't believe it. How could this day get any worse?

'I found something of yours, lying on the floor outside my door,' Elliot closed his eyes in desperation. He had to think it, didn't he? He had to tempt fate. Of course this day could get worse. Not only was he stood there, pouting like some guilty schoolboy, but Hein had caught him at his desk after hours and the General had found his book. _That's it, Elliot thought as he put on what he hoped was an innocent expression. __I may as well just die right now,_

'S-Something of mine, sir?' he enquired quietly. Hein nodded silently, looking strangely dependent upon the wall beside him for support. Elliot frowned ever so slightly and took a closer look at Hein. The General was slumped against the wall, both arms folded across his chest. If it weren't for the slightly glazed over effect on his eyes, Elliot could have sworn that this was the most coherent Hein had looked in a long time.

'A book,' Hein said slowly. Elliot paused before replying. It was fairly obvious that Hein was not in the best of states. If he played this right, then he might just be able to escape this ordeal alive. He relaxed ever so slightly, taking one step closer to the General.

'Are you sure it's mine, sir?' Hein paused, thinking that through. _You can see the cogs turning, Elliot though, somewhat mutinously. Eventually, Hein looked back up and nodded slowly._

'It has your name on it,' he said coolly. Elliot pretended to frown in confusion. He just had to get it back. . .

'Can you show me this book, sir? So I can see if it is mine or not?' Hein stared at him for a moment, just blinking slowly and not saying a word. Elliot started to get a little worried. The General had that expression on his face; the expression he always had when he was readying to really rip into someone. It was kind of calm, with an undertone of. . . Something scary that Elliot couldn't quite describe. He would have been terrified if he hadn't noticed that Hein was actually humming pleasantly to himself. Actually, the thought of Hein humming was more than enough to totally scare the crap out of Elliot.

'Uh. . . Sir?' Elliot asked tentatively. Hein looked up at him suddenly, as if he had only just noticed him there.

'Yes?'

'The book, sir?' Hein frowned slightly, looking down at the floor, still humming quietly.

'Oh yes. It's in my office,' With something of a noticeable effort, Hein managed to stand up and open the door to his office. Elliot couldn't help but hang back for a moment as he watched the General slowly work his way into his office. He still hadn't figured out quite what was wrong with his superior. For all he knew, Hein could be having a chocolate relapse. Or perhaps he had found a new poison. _Don't even think about that! Elliot told himself as he grudgingly followed Hein into the very dark room. __Last thing I need is for him to find something else to get addicted to,_

The first thing he noticed about Hein's office was that it was _dark. Very dark, in fact; much more so than it usually was in here. It was amazing that Hein didn't kill himself as he blindly staggered over to his desk and sat down on the chair at the other side. Elliot moved into his usual position of standing nervously as close to the door as he possibly could without drawing too much attention to himself. He often assumed this position so he could escape quickly and unscathed when Hein lost his temper or discovered that the bioetheric division had pulled a fast one on him. Usually, Hein didn't notice. But today – typically – he did, leaning forwards in his seat and frowning inquisitively at Elliot._

'Expecting a fire or something?' he asked calmly. Elliot smiled a little too easily and shook his head, taking one big step away from the door.

'Of course not, sir. Now, about that book. . .'

'How long have you been here?' Hein enquired cordially, obviously rummaging for something in the darkness. Elliot allowed an eyebrow to arch. _Oh. . . Kay. . . he thought. __Might as well play along,_

'About seven years, sir. Longer than you,' There was silence; a very uncomfortable silence in which Elliot became aware that it was very, very dark in here. He never had been a fan of the dark, ever since his older brother had locked him in a closet for two and a half days when he was six years old. The only reason anyone had found him was because his mother had thought she had left something in there. _They never even wondered where I'd gone, Elliot thought, glad that there was something to take his mind off the silence around him. __Stupid family. . ._

'I hear it's great - ' a voice said suddenly in his left ear, frightening the bejeezus out of Elliot. He would have sprinted out of the room as fast as his legs could take him, but there was a scarily strong hand gripping his shoulder. _Oh. . . My. . . God. . . he thought, not daring to even breathe. ' – When those little cupcakes they make down in the cafeteria are warm and all the chocolate chips are all melted,' Elliot couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Someone had taken his boss and replaced him with a psycho. That could be the only explanation, right?_

'But I'm not allowed chocolate, am I?' Hein said, his tone gaining something of a manic edge to it as he gripped Elliot's shoulder a little harder. 'No, because I'll become a danger to national defence if I eat it, won't I?' Elliot didn't say a word. _Why me? he thought quietly. __What did I do to deserve this? There was more silence; silence in which Elliot could feel his own erratic heartbeat becoming more panicked by the second._

He was just starting to think that Hein had perhaps fallen asleep or died standing up, when the General began to laugh. It wasn't the usual kind of laugh Elliot heard from him, all sarcastic and sneery. It was amused, mirthful. Almost. . . Happy. Elliot shuddered, even as Hein let go of his shoulder.

'Did you see that?' the General giggled. 'How could anyone. . .?' Elliot slowly turned around, not entirely sure of what he would see. His eyes were getting used to the un-natural darkness now, and he could just make out the form of his boss, lay on the floor laughing his ass off.

'Sir?' Elliot asked, not sure what else he could say. Hein managed to pull himself to his feet, though he was still chuckling inanely. Elliot could faintly see that he had something grasped in one hand; something that looked distinctly bottle shaped. His heart plunged towards his feet. They had been through this once before, and Elliot had never been able to wipe the painful memory from his mind. _Not alcohol, Elliot thought frantically. __Please, god. Anything but alcohol,_

Hein didn't usually go for booze when he was trying to wipe the memories away. Even he admitted that it wasn't good for his system or the systems of anyone around him. He only resorted to it when there was absolutely nothing else; when he was rock-bottom. Elliot realised now that he really should have seen this one coming. The lack of chocolate, the ongoing arguments with the Council and the scientists. The disturbing copycat attacks of the Incident. The graffiti in the men's toilet that insulted both the General's manhood and his sexuality. And Elliot's as well. It was all building up to this; a last desperate attempt to make all the anger go away. Alcohol was weird when Hein consumed it. It made him either incredibly edgy, or incredibly relaxed. At the moment, however, Elliot couldn't decide exactly what mood Hein was in. He was half and half, which either meant he hadn't drunk enough, or he'd drunk too much. In either case, he doubted he was going to get out of here anytime soon, or without further scarring to his delicate psyche. Life was not fair.

'It's late, isn't it?' Hein said suddenly, the laughter all gone. Though he couldn't quite make out the features of the General's face, Elliot was sure he could feel that familiar scowl searing through him like a hot knife through butter. The General was back up on his feet and just standing there, ominously between Elliot and the door. His only means of escape.

'I-I hadn't noticed, sir,' Elliot replied meekly. This sudden return to normality had reminded Elliot that he needed to get his book back before Hein got sober enough to read it and understand what it said.

'What are you doing sneaking around at such a time?' Elliot paused to think up a reply. Well, he was probably going to lose his job anyway, so why not have a little fun while he was at it?

'Well, what are you doing here at this time, sir?' he asked. There was a long silence, which either meant that Hein was thinking up a reply, or he was readying to stab Elliot with his letter opener. Elliot was silently hoping the latter.

'I just needed a drink,' Hein stated quietly. There was the distinct sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle, and the frothy, bubbling sound of the liquid fizzing up. In the darkness, Elliot could just see Hein take a long, deep and fairly disturbing swig from the bottle, before holding it out in his general direction.

'You want some?' Elliot held up both hands, shaking his head.

'N-No, sir. I don't drink. It makes me. . . A little odd,' A little odd was an understatement. Last time Elliot had even gone within smelling distance of alcohol, he had ended up in New Jersey wearing nothing but a pair of suspenders. Hein was still holding out the bottle, oblivious to Elliot's protests.

'Have a drink, Major,' he said in that ever so threatening tone that he had perfected while in New York. Elliot eyed the bottle desperately. He couldn't! He didn't want to have to try and hitch hike his way back to New York armed with nothing but an item of women's underwear! He just wanted to get his book back and retreat to his quarters where he would have a nice, long rant about the guy in charge.

'I'd rather no. . .' The bottle was thrust under his nose; the smell so strong that Elliot could almost taste it. He shook his head again, though weaker this time. He could still feel that glare bearing down on him as Hein moved a little closer. He could smell the stench on the General's breath now, and it was making his eyes water. _What is in that bottle, and how has he managed to drink so much of it and still appear terrifying?! he thought._

'I wouldn't want to deprive you, General. I just want my book back,' Hein's face was now so close that Elliot could see his brow furrow into a frown.

'Book?' he asked stupidly. Elliot could also see the General's eyes sliding in and out of focus. This was one of the most surreal days he'd ever experienced. He nodded eagerly – too eagerly.

'Yes, sir. You said you found it?' Hein stared at him for a good few seconds, before his expression broke into a wide grin. This change in look was enough to make Elliot's eyes widen in terror. If there was one thing that the General _never did, it was smile. Especially not as friendly and happily as this._

'Are you a-alright, sir?' he managed to whisper as Hein scratched his forehead with his free hand.

'The book. . . The one with all the little pictures on the front? And the lists inside?' If Elliot's eyes could have widened more, they would have, but anymore widening on his part might have made his eyes pop out of their sockets, so he just let his jaw drop instead.

'Y-yes. . .' he mumbled, barely audible now. Hein had read it. He had picked it up and read it. Maybe what he had seen had been enough to force him into drinking all the alcohol on base. Maybe it was enough to make him drink himself into a stupor. Or maybe this was what he usually did on a Thursday night. Hein was still smiling, which was a little disturbing. Why was Elliot not dead yet?

'I left it outside. On top of that cabinet thing you keep all the files in,' Elliot almost kicked Hein, but resorted to biting his lip instead. All this time it had been out there, and he had never bothered to even try looking on top of that cabinet! He could have swiped the book and been none the wiser to the weirdness that seemed to be localised in Hein's office. But, no. He had to investigate, didn't he? He had to believe that Hein had the book all along. _Count to ten, count to ten. Sing the happy song. Just don't get angry, he told himself. He had never been good at anger management._

'You could have told me that earlier, sir,' he said, placing more emphasis on the last word than was needed. Hein was still oblivious, and awarded Elliot with a hearty slap to the back that made his skin tingle with pain.

'Well, you just have time for a drink before you go, right?' Elliot was already shaking his head firmly. He had to get out of here and get his book before he killed either Hein or himself. Or both of them. It wouldn't be difficult, what with the General stood there laughing like a hyena again.

'No thank you, sir,' he muttered through gritted teeth. 'I'm just going to -'

He didn't get to the end of that sentence. Hein – showing surprising hand-eye co-ordination for one so wasted – grabbed him by the throat and pushed him up against the nearest wall; the mouth of the bottle crushed against Elliot's lips.

'Have. A. Drink,' Hein threatened. Elliot didn't know what to do. To drink and lose his job, or not to drink and lose his life. It was a really hard decision, especially for someone who didn't really have a life outside of babysitting a 35 year old man and making sure he got to all his meetings on time. He could see the scarily insane glint in Hein's eyes as the General snarled at him. _I hate my job, Elliot thought desperately as he opened his mouth and allowed the sweet liquid to pour in._

And then, everything went black.

The next thing he knew, there was a sharp pain in his back and a breeze attacking his face. There was a slow, irritating drip-drip-drip somewhere and someone had decided to shine an insanely bright light in his eyes. Elliot squeezed one eye open a crack and instantly shut it again as painful white light invaded his vision. His head hurt. His arms hurt. His back hurt. Hell, all of him hurt, but his head in particular. It felt as it he had been run over by a tank.

'Ow. . .' he muttered, laboriously turning over and basking in the darkness he found there. He edged his eye open ever so slightly again and decided to see where in Hell he was.

The first thing he saw were white lines against a blue background. These lines should have meant something to him – he knew that – but his addled brain was not co-operating with him at this particular moment. In fact, his brain felt as if it had been taken out, put in a blender for an hour and slowly smooshed back into his head with the aide of a dirty straw. Elliot knew this feeling – though only vaguely.

He had a hangover.

He continued to stare at the white lines, opening his other eye and slowly realising that the lines made up letters. And letters made up words. _Oh wow, he thought sarcastically, closing his sore eyes for a moment. __I remember what I was taught in first grade. Whoopee. . . He opened his eyes properly and squinted in the light. He was staring at a sign. And that sign; in its battered, dirty writing said:_

WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY

Back in his office, General Hein woke up slowly to the sound of a scream echoing from many, many miles away. He pushed the empty, broken bottle away from his face and groaned, congratulating himself for having kept his office in total darkness. He couldn't remember a thing about last night, which was probably a good thing. _No, wait, he thought slowly as he sat up, easing out the knot in his neck that he had gained from sleeping in such a stupid position. __I remember one thing. . . A little notebook with little explosions and knifes doodled on it. A book that said some very nasty things indeed._

A book that was lying in front of him.

He picked it up and started to read. At first, he smiled at the harsh passage scribbled down in front of him. The smile disappeared as he saw who the subject of the rant was.

Elliot felt a distinct shiver of fear run down his spine as he stood up, trying desperately to hide his painful nakedness. He could see a truck approaching in the distance; perhaps a troop out on a patrol. Did he really have to go back now? Or might it be safer if he waited out here for a few years, living in peace amongst the Phantoms until everything blew over? He shivered again. _Death out here, or death in there? he thought, frowning as he heard a shout of anger float gently on the soft breeze around him. The voice sounded like a certain hungover General screaming the name of a certain naked subordinate. Elliot quickly hid behind the sign. Suddenly, death out here didn't sound so bad._


End file.
